This Woman's Work
by RattusLabRat
Summary: If only Clarice had turned quicker she would have noticed a dark figure making it’s way towards her.


**This Woman's Work**

**Disclaimer: **_I do not in any way own any of the characters mentioned in this story, I use them for the sole purpose to amuse myself._

**A/N:**_ Seeing as I got a lot of feedback from you all with Otherside I decided to write something else. I have so many fic's going on at the mo that I needed a change in scenery. I know the ending is pretty bad...but what can I do?. Reviews and criticisms greatly appreciated._

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Pain was now what Clarice Starling concentrated on. Inside, she felt hollow. Emotions were a hinder, tears were an act of weakness, she was no longer the woman she had been. Hannibal Lecter had changed everything; he had turned her world around, he had made her friends and colleagues doubt her working ability and he had successfully ruined her life.

There was nothing to do now but wait and feel, feel the pain burn inside her like a forever lasting fire. Awake she felt the pain, sleeping she felt the pain. There was no way to run from it, pain was now her life.

Where was he? Where was Dr Hannibal Lecter, the man that haunted dreams, the creator of her suffering. Where the fuck was he? Enraged by her naivety she had long ago discarded the real Clarice Starling, the woman sitting on her couch watching some talk show was a shell of the person she once was. Her hair had grown, once it had held shape and had shined in the light, now the hair she had once treasured lay down past her shoulders, knotted and un even.

The talk show host pointed his finger at one of the guests accusing him of hurting his wife and ruining their marriage, Clarice felt anger boil up inside of her. She felt the pain of the wife; the pain she had to go through had doubled in Clarice's life. She had long since packed in her job, she couldn't be trusted anymore, letting Lecter go had been the final straw, they didn't need her anymore.

It stung, he had been right all along, he knew they would throw her out, leave her to rot while they continued their mundane tasks of following leads and trying to catch serial killers. The job wasn't her anymore; the job had changed her into the thing she was now.

Clarice Starling was an addict, she was addicted to pain. She thrived on the fact that now she could sit at home and feel sorry for herself while watching day time television. There were days where she wouldn't wash, she'd just sit and continuously watch the television for a sign, any sign that _he_ was back. Of course there never was.

As she watched the television she felt as if something or someone was watching her, taking in every detail. Once an FBI Agent always an FBI Agent. She surveyed her surroundings, nothing seemed off. A small clatter in her kitchen got her attention, her head snapping in the direction of the noise she lifted the cushion she was sitting on up and removed John Brigham's gun, it was the only thing she had left of her FBI Academy crush. Clicking the safety off, she got up off the couch slowly, her back to the wall. She couldn't hear anything else; making her way to the kitchen she jumped in head first checking the corners of the room was a habit that hadn't died.

"If...if there's anyone there, show yourself." Her voice was hesitant and shaky the complete opposite of the old Starling.

Another clatter could be heard from her now empty living room. She turned too quickly, a wave of dizziness slapping her in the face. She shook it off and made her way to where she heard the noise.

"I said show yourself. There's no point in hiding, I'm an FBI Agent..I..I have a gun and I am NOT afraid to shoot."

If only Clarice had turned quicker she would have noticed a dark figure making it's way towards her.

_The smell of oranges made Clarice look up; there she saw her father-standing cutting up an orange with his knife. He smiled as Clarice made her way to him. _

"_Hello sweetheart."_

"_Hey Daddy." She watched as he cut the orange into segments. It had always amazed her how he could do it so quickly, yet every segment was neatly sliced_.

"_How's my baby girl?"_

_Clarice sat down on a stool and popped a bit of orange in her mouth. She swallowed and smiled sweetly at her father. "I'm doing good Daddy."_

_Her father ruffled her hair and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "That's my girl."_

"That's my girl."

Clarice groggily opened her eyes; images blurred confusing her as she tried to stand up. Something was holding her back, moving her wrists she felt something worn and rough dig in. Why did she get the feeling that someone had tied her up?

"Ah, I see you have awakened Clarice." That voice. That sleek raspy voice that had haunted her dreams now echoed in her mind. He was here, why the hell hadn't he come sooner? She closed her eyes and sighed. So…this was it, he was finally going to finish her off.

A laugh escaped her mouth. She would soon be able to rest, to take the pain and make it disappear. She would be able to sleep forever. She opened her clear blue eyes and looked into the face of Dr Hannibal Lecter.

He hadn't changed much; his hair had grown a little longer. He suited it. She could feel his eyes burning into her soul as she took in his appearance. He looked extremely well; the black slacks and blue shirt fitted him perfectly. She looked into his maroon eyes, she swore she could see something burst, little yellow sparks scatter slowly and die. His eyes were extremely beautiful.

"Why are you here Doctor?"

He bent down and looked at her, her skinny frame that was now tied to one of her dining chairs. She looked unhealthy and extremely unkept. This saddened him to the degree that he knew something had to be done.

"My dear Clarice, to help you of course."

Clarice lunged for him, the chair rocking slowly. "I don't need your fucking help."

He stood up and straightened himself. His face had become blank, his glare sent shivers through Clarice's body.

"My my…somewhere inside all that bravado Clarice I can smell your fear."

Clarice huffed a laugh. "What the hell are you waiting for? I know you came here to kill me so let's skip the pleasantries, and this will go a whole lot quicker."

Clarice rocked the chair. The rope that was currently holding her hands together rubbed against the skin of her wrists, wincing she tried to manoeuvre her hands to a position that was less painful. The Doctor stood and watched Clarice, she thought that he had came back to kill her? What had the silly woman been thinking up since his last departure?

"Clarice."

Her name on his lips always made her shiver, he said it perfectly holding the ice at the end. She looked up at him and noticed his full attention was on her.

"Sadly I didn't come here to kill you. Look at you my dear…" He clicked his tongue several times and shook his head.

"If I had knew that I was expecting a guest I would spruced myself up."

He had to smile, always the willing challenger. He lifted her chin up, their eyes facing each other. He could feel her trembling as he ran his finger down the hollow of her throat and to the collar of her t-shirt.

"My little Starling seems to have fallen from the nest."

A single solitary tear formed itself in the corner of Clarice's right eye; it fell slowly and deliberately making a wet path towards her dry red lips. Hannibal followed its journey; he could taste the salt on his tongue. Any normal person would have tried to sooth her, take her in their arms. Hannibal Lecter watched her as she broke down and broke apart. This wasn't the Clarice Starling he knew; this was an extremely broken part of Clarice Starling. She was hardly there anymore.

The burning started in her throat and spread extremely quickly to her chest and stomach. The pain burned, she felt as if her body was on fire. So this is what true pain felt like, it wasn't the hollowness she had been feeling, it wasn't the emptiness, it was the slow torture of knowing you could have something yet you pushed it away.

She stared at Hannibal, his maroon eyes watching her every move. She wanted to jump into his embrace and cry her pain and sorrow onto his shirt clad shoulder.

"Clarice, if I untie your wrists do you promise to behave?"

Weakly she nodded as his deft hands quickly untied the knotted rope. She rubbed her now marked wrists and sighed as movement somewhat soothed the pain. He watched her as she tried putting movement back into her hands.

"I read in the papers that your departure from the bureau was rather brutal."

Clarice wiped the lone tear that had started to dry on her cheek.

"Yeh well…it's kind of hard to trust an Agent that let's serial killer's escape."

He arched one of his eyebrows and rocked on his heels. "Tell me Clarice, how does it feel knowing that they used you and left you to suffer like this hmm?"

She stood on unsteady feet and managed to walk to her couch. Sitting down she shrugged her stiff shoulders. "It hurts. You warned me it was going to happen yet I thought I might be able to prevent it. Letting you go was the icing on the cake. They uh…well they said there was nothing left for me, that the best thing to do was go."

"And here you are…"

Clarice's head snapped up. "What do you expect me to do with my life now Dr Lecter? My job WAS my life, I have nothing left now. I've been sitting in front of that television hoping, wishing that there would be some news about you, maybe a sighting or an update. But nothing. Life doesn't carry on for me the way it does for you."

"You let it consume you Clarice to the point of no return. Did they respect you after the death of Jame Gumb? Did they take you into their arms and comfort you every night as you awoke to the screaming of the lambs? Tell me Clarice, what _did_ they do for you?"

Clarice stood and paced the floor of her living room. Trust him to get straight to the point. She sniffed and grit her teeth as she thought of something sarcastic or rude to say to him, but nothing came.

"Ah, the ever waiting silence. Do you think they would take you back if you turned me in? Hmm? I think not Clarice."

"Blunt and to the point as usual Doctor."

Hannibal smirked. "Would it please you if I lied, if I sugar coated things Ex Special Agent Starling?"

Clarice stopped in her tracks and gave him an icy glare. He had gone too far.

"You fucking know it wouldn't." She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. "I can't do this anymore, I can't sit back and do nothing. This isn't me."

Dr Lecter slowly walked to where Clarice now sat, he took a seat on her coffee table and looked into her eyes. "Clarice I do not like to see you in pain. Yet you set yourself aside to be battered and bruised by the ones your trust. Where's Jacky boy now? Wasn't HE your saviour?"

"He can't do shit. They went over his head. All this-" She gestured with her hand. "Is my fault…if I hadn't called those cops…"

The Doctor looked expectantly at her. "Yes?"

"If I hadn't called those cops…everything would be different."

"It's the luck of the draw." He took her small and fragile hand into his larger one and caressed the palm with his thumb. "I came here to help you Clarice, let me help you."

And as if by magic her pain was gone.

Fin


End file.
